Runaway
by Fire The Canon
Summary: Andrew had thought he was doing an okay job at being a single father; but he failed anyway.


_**Written for the Inspiration by Shakespeare challenge - As You Like It (write about a runaway)**_

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**Runaway**

Having a baby had been hard enough, but raising a teenager was even harder. Andrew Kirke was a single dad and he had never thought that raising a child by himself would be so challenging.

First, there was the feeding, the nappy changing, and the sleepless nights. It had been like that almost from the beginning. There had been plenty of nights he'd worked on two or three hours sleep.

Then there had come the tantrums. The wanting, the nagging, and the crying. The times a tantrum was thrown in public and people would look and stare. It had been embarrassing and very uncomfortable, and no doubt people had unspoken thoughts in their minds as they walked past.

When words started to come, there were many uncomfortable questions: the most uncomfortable one being, _'where's Mummy?'_ The truth was, Andrew had no idea. He had been a father for three weeks when he had woken to an empty bed and a note that told him it was too hard. She was gone, and she had never come back.

He had hoped that his son had inherited his own magical powers, but it seemed it was his mother he had inherited from. He often spoke of Hogwarts, and little Rowan seemed so excited to go himself, using the sticks in the backyard as wands. But, the years went by and there was not a sign of magic. He enrolled him in the local public school, and he struggled. Even from the early years he was never the brightest, he never had many friends, and he was never rewarded for being well behaved.

Eleven years came and went and no letter came. Rowan continued to attend school, always underachieving, always being suspended for one thing or another. Andrew worked two jobs to keep the little flat they rented up and running, but it meant less time with his son.

The teen years hit before he realised, and that was when the trouble really began. When Rowan was fifteen he started spending nights out. He never told his father where he was going or when to expect him home. When he did finally come back he reeked of cigarette smoke and who knew what else. Andrew was worried; he wasn't really sure what to do.

"He's a lost cause." That was what his mother told him. It was her reasoning for everything. If she couldn't fix it then it was broken beyond repair.

"He's my son, I can't give up on him!" For, his mother had virtually disowned him when he hadn't succeeded at top of the class for every subject. He knew what it was like when someone gave up, and he was not going to do the same for Rowan… no matter what.

When Rowan reached seventeen, he thought he may have made progress. Andrew had just arrived home from work one evening, and there was his son… _cleaning_! The house was looking tidier than it had in weeks, and when Rowan saw him, he smiled.

"Hey, Dad," he said. "How was work?"

Andrew was so thrown by the question (and the concern) that he mumbled an 'it was good' and then beamed.

"You wanna go out for dinner?" Rowan then asked. "Just the two of us?"

"That would be great! Give me thirty minutes!" Andrew disappeared into his room, delighted. His son felt like a stranger to him and maybe this was going to be the turning point. Maybe this would be the night he was introduced to Rowan Kirke.

Dinner went well. They didn't talk much about anything, but it was good just being together. They went to a local pizza place.

"This is nice. We should do this more often."

Rowan only nodded and smiled. Andrew sighed. He wished he knew what to say to his son. Seventeen years and he barely knew him.

"You know…." He paused, unsure what to say next. What could he say? That he was sorry that he had turned out that way? He was sorry that his mother had disappeared without a word? Rowan missed her – Andrew knew that – and he knew that was part of the reason he was like he was. "You know… I enjoy spending time with you." Saying he regretted being a terrible father would be the wrong thing. He had tried his best – he had done everything he could. There was nothing to regret.

He went to bed that night with a smile on his face. This was the turnaround: he could sense it. This was the first of many nights he would get to know his son. Better late than never.

When he woke the next morning, though, the happiness he'd felt before, disappeared. Rather than a glowing, newly-changed son, he was greeted by an empty house. Everything was gone: his gold, the TV, food. All of it.

"Rowan?" He called up the stairs, but he knew no reply would come. He knew what had happened. Only one other person knew the code to the safe where the gold was kept. Rowan was gone; Andrew had been robbed.

He'd never felt so betrayed before: not even when Rowan's mother had left. He had thought they were making progress the night before, but he realised now it had all been a ploy to throw him off the scent.

Where had Rowan gone? What had he needed the money for? It had been a mix of wizard and Muggle gold stored in that safe.

And then he remembered the stained fingers and the sunken eyes he had noticed last night. Rowan was not the little boy he remembered; the one who spoke excitedly of Hogwarts and magic and Quidditch (even if he could never do any of it). He had smoked himself into an early grave. The money Andrew had been keeping away was gone, probably in the hands of a drug dealer by now. He could call the police but… did he want his son in jail?

"Rowan…." He spoke the name softly, with tenderness he didn't even know he felt. This was the end, he knew that. He would not involve the police and he doubted (although he hoped) Rowan would return.

Looking back, he realised he should have seen this coming a long time ago. Maybe he should have done more for him – given him more of a chance. Maybe his mother had been right….

_No_. No, Rowan had not been a lost cause. Andrew just hadn't worked out how to fix him before it was too late. That was the issue.

Looking at the empty safe and the spot where the TV had sat last night, Andrew felt something he had never felt before. It was strong, powerful.

He missed his son already.

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_**This was one of those occasions where you have an idea in your head but it doesn't turn out the way you wanted it to (not to mention losing the middle part of the story due to a MS Word fail and having to rewrite. But, I explored an unexplored character, so I am happy. I hope you liked it too!**_


End file.
